Shoulda Gone With Somethin' Else
by RaspBerryHats
Summary: Wesley and Gunn try to give Angel a break from hard life as CEO of Evil Incorporated. But by the end of the day, everyone comes to realize, hookers are the answer to everything.


Wesley and Gunn try to give an Angel a break from hard life as CEO of Evil Incorporated. But by the end of the day, everyone comes to realize, hookers are the answer to everything.

Stupid little ficlet a friend of mine suggested I write. As school approaches, I'm wondering if my friends will be as wonderful as Wesley and Gunn… No point to this except, every one needs a little day off.

*~*~*

"This is a stupid idea. I mean really stupid." Angel said as Gunn and Wesley walked him down a narrow hall off the main room of Wolfram and Hart's LA branch.

"No, it isn't." Gunn said firmly, walked closer to Angel than usual, ready to grab the vampire if he tried to make a sudden break for it. "We've all had to make changes here. No one said this job would be easy."

"Ok, yeah, changes, I'm prepared for," Angel said, shaking in his head in an attempt to relieve his nerves. He'd be damned (well, even more damned) if he even let on the slightest hint of how terrified he was. "I've slaughtered the likes of Hell and beyond, but this wasn't in the job description of Hero."

"But think of how beneficial this will be." Wesley said, trying to find a new angle with which to convince Angel this wasn't the end of the world. "It's a scientific fact that sessions like these are calming and, well, good for the soul. Most CEO's take these quite often to become better leaders."

"Ah-ha!" Angel exclaimed and wheeled on Wesley, shoving an accusing finger in his face. "So this _is_ some sort of plot to make me evil! You've been brainwashed and now your orders are to turn me back into Angelus! But I'll tell you, no amount of beautiful women, demon or otherwise, will ever give me real happiness! Your hookers won't work on me, damn it!"

Angel froze, noticed the amount of onlookers his little speech had gathered and settled down out of Wesley's face. The vampire cleared his throat and smeared down his jacket.

Gunn glanced at the Head of Mystics next to him, and the English man returned the look, a flash of humor running like a current. Gunn grabbed Angel by the shoulders, steering him around to an oak door.

"This isn't any plot or big scheme. This is just us helping you." Gun said and clapped Angel on the back in a reassuring way. Angel gulped slightly. "You save the world on a daily basis and this is just a little thanks."

"How is this a thanks?" Angel grumbled.

"Just sit back, relax… and talk." Gunn said, his hand clenching down onto the metal handle and causing Angel's stomach to squirm.

"I don't wanna talk." Angel whined. Gunn was a tiny man; maybe one good shove could get him far away for a good run.

The door opened, revealing a large room, a long sofa, a high-back green chair and someone.

"Angel, meet your new therapist."

A short, stout woman sat in the high back chair, her tiny legs barely grazing the floor. She had small brown glasses gently ridding along her button nose and tiny ears. Her face was plump and full, squeezing her eyes and thinning her lips. Curled gray hair sat beneath a small black hat. The woman should have been wearing a pink and green cardigan with a matching dress, not a tight gray pin suit. Her hands should have held knitting needles, not a clipboard and a tiny pen.

"Welcome Angel," the old woman said with a twinkle in her brown eyes. "Would you like a cookie?"

Angel stood in the doorway, his mouth agape and the word, "Grandma!" itching his tongue.

"Angel?" The woman asked again. Any resolve against this whole thing immediately crumbled. Angel whimpered.

"Please sit down." The vampire obliged and uncomfortably began to drum his fingers on the couch's arm. "Do you want to lie down? Take off your shoes? That must be one uncomfortable sole-,"

"You're not getting my soul!" Angel cried and bounded up. The old woman laughed a silvery gentle laugh.

"No, deary, your sole! As in the sole of your shoe! Those don't look comfortable, too tight and all." The woman raised a crooked finger to Angel's brown Armanis. The vampire frowned and noticed the no-wiggle room inside of the highly expensive yet horribly and comfortable pair of shoes.

"Would you like to take them off?"

Angel shoved his hands deep into his pockets and shifted nervously. He raised his jaw slightly before nodding.

"I'll take them off, only because I want to. Your mind tricks don't work on me."

The woman chuckled as Angel unpeeled the crisp shoes from his thick feet and sat back down on the sofa.

"Oh, no mind tricks. You're too smart for that, aren't you? You're the big Angel, the protector of humanity, aren't you?"

From anyone else, this would have been horribly condescending. If someone, say Spike, even got two words out of this mumbo-jumbo, Angel would have punched him through the next wall. But from this sweet little old lady, Angel just grinned and threw his feet across the couch.

"Yes," the vampire said, the bemused smile growing. "Yes, I am."

"Cookie?" A chocolate chip cookie was handed to him on a floating napkin.

It was a while before Angel took the cookie, and still he did not eat it.

"So you're a witch?"

"Well, wiccan but yes, magic runs through my veins."

"And your name?"

"Oh, heavens to Besty," she giggled. "Pardon me, Mr. CEO, I'm Ellen Greensborough."

She laughed again and twisted to a more comfortable position. Her jacket bunched up around her shoulder and she turned to fix it but her tiny arm, constrained by the tight jacket, couldn't reach it. She twisted again before finally giving up, frowning slightly.

"Why do you wear that?" Angel asked and bit into the cookie.

"Office regulation." Ms. Greensborough sighed unhappily.

Angel stared at the little woman. His super trained senses felt the magic within the old witch but it was very low, not even registering high enough to be threatening to a mushroom. Fred had said there were good people working here at Wolfram and Hart, forced into service by the Senior Partners. Was this really one of them? If she tried anything funny, he could easily have this witch fired, figuratively or otherwise.

She really was stoutly adorable…

"Take it off, if you want."

Ms. Greensborough frowned at Angel.

"You told me to take off my shoes and I honestly feel much better. So, to return the favor, I –uh- give you permission to take off your jacket, and anything else that makes you uncomfortable. Yeah, all out with the uncomfortableness!"

The witch chuckled as she pulled off the pinstriped jacket, unbuttoned the necktie, and kicked off her tight pumps.

"Always helping the needy and helpless, Angel Heart."

She shifted, grinning all the while and finally turned back to Angel, ready to give full attention to her patient, but he was a couple of steps ahead.

"Yeah!" Angel said, a happy warmth growing in his chest at the sight of the old woman's smile. "Yeah! Out with the uncomfortableness! And you know what? This couch SUCKS!"

The vampire bounded up and kicked right through the stuffed couch. The wood splintered up and stuffing flew everywhere. Angel smiled widely and looked over at Ms. Greensborough for reassurance. The witch grinned back, leapt out of her seat and with her hands glowing, she shoved over her high back chair, shattering it into a million pieces. Edged on, Angel bounded over to the far wall, covered in nothing but shelves.

"These jars are really ugly!" He grabbed various pots and books and threw them to the ground with such force, parts of books and clay became embedded in the carpet. Suddenly half of the shelves erupted into flame. Angel whirled around and saw the little witch grinning madly, red flames crackling faintly in her hands. Ms. Greensborough straightened and smoothed down her rumpled hair, her cheeks glowing pink.

"Hey!" Angel roared and jabbed a fist into the air. "Rock on, little mama!"

The witch grinned again and threw another flame ball at the other wall. Angel cackled like a madman and smashed an end table to bits.

*~*~*

"Do you hear that?" Gunn asked from outside of the closed oak doors. He and Wesley had their ears pressed to the wood, increasingly confused looks growing on their faces. "It sounds like-,"

"But it can't be." Wesley said, his British accent becoming thick in his confusion. "It just simply _can't_ be."

*~*~*

About thirty minutes later, Angel immerged from the room, his jacket slung over his shoulder and grinning like he was walking through the gates of heaven.

"Hey guys," he said simply to the awestruck Gun and Wesley and walked out into the hall.

"Dear lord," Wesley gasped. "You murdered the Cookie Monster and stripped him of his feet."

Angel paused and wiggled his bare toes around in the large fluffy blue boot-like slippers Ms. Greensborough had cooked up.

"I hate Armani." He shrugged and continued on his way.

"Oh my God," Gunn muttered and Wesley hurried into the room, and gasped again. The room was in utter shambles; the sofa was obliterated, and lamp pieces were stuck in the walls, along with large bowling-ball-sized holes. The wooden shelves were smoking and pages and spines from books laid all about the room.

"Dear lord," Wesley murmured. "What the devil happened here?"

Ms. Greensborough emerged from the remains of the high back chair.

"Angel is a wonderful soul." She said solemnly. "He's a boisterous little thing and is one of the most pure beings I've ever met."

"Angel did this?" Gunn asked as he picked up a tiny pot piece. "And he's pure?"

"This type of life doesn't suit him well. However if you just let him have a little fun, he'll be far less moody."

"This was fun?" Wesley asked.

"Maybe we should have gone with the hookers…" Gunn muttered to Wesley who nodded vaguely.

"Get away from me, you bloody poof!"

A yelp echoed out from the main room of the law firm and fearing the worse, Wesley and Gunn glanced at each other, before tearing out into the hallway, following the noise. They raced around the corner, ready to call for back up-

-and froze.

Angel, possibly, Angelus had Spike wrapped up in his arms, trying to break his back…

No. Angel was trying to _hug_ Spike….

"If you don't let me go this very second," the British vampire yelped through gritted teeth. "You will wake up in a very dark and painful place. Or maybe you won't wake up at all, you big ape!"

"Spike, just let it be…" Angel said. "Don't fight your anger. Embrace it."

"Angel, what the soddin' hell have you been puffing?" Spike hissed and continued to struggle.

Angel squeezed tighter and pulled back, completely lifting the other vampire off his feet. Spike's blue eyes bugged out and let out a strangled shout. Then the older vampire let him go and Spike stumbled back.

"You seriously need to get some, mate," Spike said and straightened his leather duster. "And _not_ from me…"

"Accept the goodness." Angel said and clapped his grandchilde on the shoulder. "Don't fight. Accept."

"You try and hug me again, flowerchild, and we'll see how well you _move_ your arms for the next year and a half…."

"Oh sure, give all your love to your stupid boss," Harmony said, who had appeared from around her desk, with her hips swishing in her blue skirt. "Never mind the ex-girl friend who is really wanting to talk to her blondie bear."

Spike whipped around and let out a terrifying growl. Angel swooped in and hugged Spike one more time before bounding over to the elevator.

"Harmony, hold all my calls," he said and pressed a button on the elevator. He wiggled his toes again in the fuzzy slippers, smiling brightly as he did. "I'm going to watercolor the Los Angelus landscape."

A stunned silence swept the room as the elevator door closed and Spike shifted uncomfortably, a quick glare to everyone clearly telling them "This is NEVER to be repeated." The vampire scowled again before brushing off to another sector of the law firm. A slow chatter broke out in the room and business returned to normal. Only Gunn and Wesley remained frozen in shock.

"Next time-," Gunn began.

"It has to be-," Wesley continued.

"Hookers." The pair said firmly before shrugging and walking off to their respective rooms, locking tightly the bolts and trying to put the memory of this day far, far, _far_ behind them.


End file.
